


Violet Light

by toreadoormat (choicescarfsylveon)



Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Journalist Iris West, Love Confessions, Normal Barry, Role Reversal, Speedster Iris AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-08 13:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choicescarfsylveon/pseuds/toreadoormat
Summary: When Iris gets struck by lightning and discovers that she has mysterious powers, she reconnects with her first love and the one who got away.





	Violet Light

**Author's Note:**

> Because "Run, Iris, Run" in Season 4 had me imagining what it would look like in an AU where Iris was The Flash all along.

   
⛈️

 

"Okay, who do I have to kill?”

 

Iris sits at the dining room table crying softly when Joe gets home from the station that night. Always wanting to put on a brave face for her dad, Iris smiles at him, wipes her tears.

 

“No one, Daddy. I’m good.”

 

For five weeks now, Iris has been going undercover as the masked vigilante known to Central City as The Purple Streak (name pending, she’s still trying to low key influence the press to call her something else. Anything else). She received her strange powers after the freak storm from Harrison Wells’ particle accelerator sent a bolt of lightning through Picture News. She was working late on an assignment, alone in the office, when it struck her through the roof. She was in a coma for a month.

 

When she woke up, Iris could run faster than any person alive. She can run coast to coast in under a minute, leaving crackling, violet lightning in her wake. She can dodge bullets, moving so fast that she can pick them out of the air mid shot. She can reverse the winds of minor storms. Theoretically, she can walk on water - she's working on that one. No one knows about her powers but her and a single trusted source. She doesn't want her true identity getting out, for the protection of her family.

 

Iris used dream of being a hero and saving lives as a kid. Growing up, she watched her dad lead the CCPD with fortitude and guns blazing. Though she’s taken up journalism as her career in adulthood, going on to earn her Masters at Central City University, a part of her has always felt destined to join the forces. Unfortunately Joe refused to let her join police or fire after passing both physicals with flying colors. “No daughter of mine is getting shot at,” he said when he discovered she'd gone against his word, applied without him. “Get your degree.” Now that she’s post baccalaureate, and now that she’s been in a coma, there’s no way in hell her dad's going to let her risk her life on the daily instead of sit in some cushioned office.

 

Luckily, right now, she can do what she wants.

 

Every night, Iris suits up and beats down. Her undergrad classmate Cisco Ramon made her a custom suit with his working line of biotech. She stops organized crime, saves people from raging fires, and occasionally reroutes the inconvenient thunderstorm. Tonight, however, she encountered her first big failure as a hero, in her eyes. Tonight, she couldn’t save the last little girl from the burning building on 8th and Maine while also catching the arsonist at the Boardman docks  _and_  disarming the active shooter situation at a concert in nearby Eutreak City. If you can call two hundred miles away "nearby."

 

She caught the arsonist, stopped the shooter, and had almost rescued everyone trapped in the building when it collapsed.

 

Iris knows she isn't God, she can’t save everyone. But it kills her that she wasn’t fast enough this time. There's blood on her hands she doesn't know how to clean.

 

Joe comes to kiss the top of her head. “You sure you're okay?”

 

“Yeah. Work was long, I have a deadline, and I still have a lot to do for my dissertation. Just a little stressed.” She smirks at him. “I’m also on my period.”

 

Joe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t need to know that.” He chuckles. “But you let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

 

"I will. Thanks, Dad."

 

Iris takes herself upstairs to get to back to her deadline and dissertation, both of which she has been sorely procrastinating on because of Streak business. Not that it takes her that long to write either, given her powers. On her way in the hall, she stops and stares at the door of the empty bedroom, next to hers. Something about it has been calling her name lately. Barry Allen hasn’t lived there for six years, but sometimes, it’s like she can still feel his presence on the other side of the door.

 

Barry moved in with the West family when he and Iris were ten years old, after both of his parents died tragically in a car accident. He was the only one who survived. Iris hadn’t known Barry that well before, but Henry Allen and her father had always been close. She’d seen Barry in passing enough at school and at the Allen's for holidays to know that they would get along if they talked more. It was only that Barry was extremely shy. They didn’t talk much in fact until he suddenly lived in her house.

 

It wasn’t a happy union, at least at first. Barry Allen, in light of his loss, could be prickly and stubborn, but Iris reached out to him in spite. The more time they spent together, the more he warmed up. They were soon completely inseparable, in middle and high school. She grew to love and admire his convictions. Fifteen years later, what she loves most about Barry is his ability to fastly believe in something and stand by it, no matter how much the world discounts him for it.

 

The accident that took his parents sparked a fire in him that would never burn out: he swears on his life that it wasn’t an accident, that he remembers “a man made out of lightning” attacking them in their car unprovoked. Iris has always chosen to believe his story, even though most would say his memories are batshit crazy. He’s gone on to be a controversial voice in physics for his belief in so called Metahumans, who could very well do things like be made out of lightning. His research about the science behind such supernatural happenings - in Metropolis, Gotham, and he believes, even in Central City - has been met with public ridicule and even outrage over the years.

 

And now, Iris can do what she does.

 

Barry moved out the house when he was eighteen, after he got accepted into Coastal City University. With Iris staying home to attend Central City U, they adjusted to not seeing each other in person as often. He came home the first two Christmas holidays, but other than that, he based his life 2,000 miles away. Over the summers, he worked at rigorous forensics internships. Barry also told Joe that he had a serious live-in girlfriend.

 

Iris and Barry have barely spoken over the last couple years, ever since both of them graduated, but Barry never pulled away on purpose, and neither did she. “Out of sight, out of mind” is a reality she knows all too well. She and Joe haven’t seen her runaway mother in twenty years, and most days, Iris doesn’t even think about that.

 

But some nights, like tonight, she walks by his old room and feels very strongly like she should open the door, find him there waiting.

 

She knows now more than ever that the world is a dangerous place, that people are cruel.

 

Sometimes, when she’s running to save a life, she imagines it’s him who’s being hurt.

 

Iris leaves the door closed this time and goes to sit at her desk, where her article, due tomorrow, is still up on her laptop…and something _still_ tells her she should check on Barry, digitally, before she starts her work, just in case. Maybe something's wrong, maybe that's why she feels like she does.

 

She opens Instagram on her phone, which she hardly uses anymore, and finds Barry’s account in her friends list as ever. It's been about a year since she last checked him out.

 

Her once shy best friend now has thirty thousand followers. He posts something every day. Mostly it's the view of the ocean from his office at Coastal City PD. Sometimes it's snippets of his contributions to breakthrough metaphysical research projects. Sometimes it’s the headlines from his op-eds which, as she’s discovered, normally have vicious comment wars going on beneath them. Sometimes it's breathtaking photos of his girlfriend which, well, Iris won't get into that. He rarely posts pictures of himself. He never responds to one word of hate.

 

A year ago, nearly all of his photos were of Patty Spivot, who he's been with for four years. Engaged to. Patty is gorgeous, and thousands of his followers agree. To comfort the part of her that longs, and maybe regrets, Iris has always safely assumed that Patty is going to be the one person for Barry. Within the last four months however, as she can see now, she hasn’t made an appearance on his page. Trying not to feel like a stalker, she navigates to Patty’s profile.

 

Apparently, four months ago, Patty moved away for a new job. She has a new boyfriend. Oh.

 

Two years ago, Barry posted a throwback picture of he and Iris at their high school graduation, dressed in red gowns and embracing side by side. Iris has the same photo framed on her nightstand, or she used to, at least. She doesn't know where she last saw it, now that she thinks about that. But this is one of the only photos on Barry's Instagram that actually has him in it. Grinning wide, hair cut short, so fucking cute - it’s a shame he doesn’t post more pictures of himself, Iris thinks, boy is _fin_ _e -_

 

Under the photo, he wrote a dedication to her:

 

_This was one of the happiest days of my life. When I was ten, I lost a love I thought I'd never get back. Iris West, you and Joe have shown me there is light at the end of every dark tunnel. I can truly say I wouldn't have made it without you constantly reminding me to be on time to important things, kicking my ass every time we boxed, staying up late doing homework and forcing me to destress by watching YouTube puppy compilations, and overall, making sure my life full of smiles and laughter every day. No matter where life takes you, know that you can always run to me. You’re my home. Love you._

 

Heart racing from reading those words once more, Iris thinks there's really no excuse for herself. Sure, people naturally grow distant over time, but Barry isn't _people._  Forget a distance that is no longer substantial or that far given her powers, and forget pretending the people you love are just always going to be around.

 

She tries to remember the last time they talked. Her text message inbox illustrates. Three months ago, a few texts about a middle school teacher's name that one of them forgot. Before that, eight months ago, a link to an article Barry sent her that she probably forgot to read.  _Merry Christmas_ from Barry before that, to which Iris had responded to in kind and asked _h_ _ow are you?_ to which he'd forgotten to respond. Silly things. There's no excuse.

 

Back on his Instagram, she's about to slide into his DMs, maybe, when the emergency earpiece Cisco gave her violently buzzes in her ear.

 

Iris jumps out of her chair and zaps into the suit, ready, though she was  _really_  hoping to have the rest of the night off.

 

“What’s up? Where do you need me?”

 

 _“Re_ _lax,”_   Cisco says.  _“This is a friendship call.”_

 

Iris lets go of the breath she didn't know she was holding. Whirs back to her normal outfit, sits down.

 

“You could try calling my friendship phone next time. Y’know, the iPhone?”

 

“ _I’m sorry, I just can’t get over the fact that we have top secret superhero earpieces, that_ I _made.”_

 

Iris snorts. “You’re insufferable.”

 

“ _Also, I_ _wanted make sure you weren’t... still crying. About the little girl.”_

 

Her expression falls. “How did you know I was crying?”

 

“ _Educated guess?”_

 

Iris takes a slow, deep breath. Tries not to picture how small the body will be, the one they’ll find under the rubble.

 

“ _This is just a lot for one person to handle,”_ Cisco says.  _“No one knows there’s a_ _human_ _in the streak.”_

 

Iris knows that Cisco is right on both accounts. She has never stopped and let anyone see her in the mask, because she doesn’t want to draw attention from the other heroes, firefighters, police. But also, she wants the people of Central City to feel safe, and she thinks it makes them feel safer to assume that she’s some kind of supernatural element. How many criminals would organize to track down a black woman in a suit rather than a lightning bolt with an unknowable source?

 

At the same time, as he says: this is a lot. All the guilt, all the pressure on her. She wishes she could unburden herself, that someone else could know, not that Cisco isn’t someone. But the only other person around that she could trust not to share her identity would undoubtedly try to make her stop, just like he refused to let her anywhere near the force.

 

Though there is one other person...

 

“ _I know the plan is to stay in hiding,”_   Cisco interrupts her thoughts,  _“me on the laptop, you on the streets. But you have thought about what we could do with this if you let people see you, right? The Purple Streak could be the next Batman! They’d be making little Iris action figures! You’d be a hero to_ _women of color_ _everywhere and shit.”_

 

“So if I’m Batman, does that make you Robin?”

 

“ _Alfred, motherfucker. I ain’t wearing no tights.”_

 

Iris feels that presence once more through the wall of the empty bedroom.

 

“ _I’m just saying, you work hard,”_   Cisco says.  _“Let_ _people_ _thank you.”_

 

Something in her causes her to smile.

 

"I'll think about it. I've gotta get back to my deadline, since no one seems to be blowing anything else up tonight. Seriously, the iPhone, when it's not over life or death."

 

_"Fine, fine."_

 

Iris hangs up on the earpiece, looks at her phone. The empty Instagram DM between she and Barry is still open, waiting for her. She’s nervous. Why is she nervous?

 

“You know what?” she says to herself. “I’m just gonna call. I have his number, we used to talk on the phone all the time. It’s not weird.”

 

She second guesses when she remembers it’s almost midnight. Her time, not his, but still. She can’t thirst call  _Barry_  at almost midnight.

 

“Oh my God.” She’s doing it anyway. Each ring in her ear makes her feel like she might pass out.

 

“ _Iris?”_ Barry answers on the second ring. _“Hey! It’s so good to hear from you, how are you?”_

 

She stands up rapidly at the sound of his voice, wind blowing papers on her desk around the room. He sounds so close. He _could_  be so close. She could run to see him right now if she wanted.

 

“Good!” She’s probably blushing. “How, um - how are you, how's life? I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve actually talked.”

 

“ _No, no, I’m sorry, too. But I’ve been amazing. I don’t know if Joe told you, but I got my dream job a couple months back, CSI for Coastal City PD. Life’s been really, really great.”_

 

“That’s great, I’m proud of you.”

 

“ _But enough about me. How have you been, how's your life?”_

 

“Me? Uh...” Iris doesn’t know where to start. She insisted that Joe not tell Barry she was in a coma, soon as she woke up that morning. She didn’t want him to abandon his prestigious job search worrying about her. Apparently, her dad kept his word, didn't tell him when it happened in the first place for the same reason. Her and her dad are both pretty good at lying about things for protective purposes, all things considered.

 

“I’ve - had a lot going on. Grad school, Picture News. Other stuff.”

 

Pure adrenaline makes her shoot her shot:

 

“But it’d be a lot easier to catch up, um, in person. I was just - calling to tell you that I’m actually gonna be in Coastal City. Tomorrow. For a story.”

 

“ _Are you serious? That’s awesome! I work all day, but let me know when you’re around. We can get coffee on my break or something. I’d love to see you.”_

 

"Okay. Great. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

 

_"See you, Iris."_

 

"Bye."

 

Iris doesn't know what lead she's going to invent to tell Picture News she needs to go to the Coast, but with her speed, she'll uncover something by the morning. In seconds, motivated by her oncoming reunion, she gathers the papers that fled from her excitement, types her report for the deadline, and reviews all of tonight's literature for her dissertation. In half an hour, she's gathered facts for a potential story about the future of the developing light rail system that would connect Central to Coastal in one direct line: the technology involved, how much it's still underfunded, the physical obstacles, the opinions on the environmental effects. That'll do.

 

She doesn't know how she's going to sleep, but she'll figure that out too.

 

At two in the morning, her energy slowed, Iris doesn't know when or how she's going to tell Barry about The Purple Streak tomorrow. It could be as easy as telling him any old gossip, or it could cause her trouble. What if his response is what Joe's would be? Barry could worry or fear it, tell her that she doesn't need to carry the world on her shoulders, that she should stop for her protection, that as a CSI, he knows firsthand how gruesome her work could end up for her. That he would be broken if anything happened to her. Could she deny him that?

 

There is a reason the Wests didn't let him know Iris was in a coma. Historically, Barry dropped everything for Iris, if he knew she wanted him to.

 

The thing is, now, that he doesn't know.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter soon!


End file.
